


Goddammit Bill

by triangular



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, M/M, ambiguous reader, does it count as slice of life?, for now, from the tumblr, i apologize for everything in advance, maybe but there'll be underlying plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triangular/pseuds/triangular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill is a brat. That's nothing new, just saying.<br/>It also dawns on him that there are other demons flitting around.<br/>Just, not all of them are as chaotic and full of themselves.<br/>More secrets abound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first chap is essentially fluff, not even.  
> but it's...it exists.

A demon.

Something whose presence could frighten the most stoic.

Something whose power could result in otherworldly destruction.

Or, more accurately, one of the most annoying brats you’d ever had to deal with.

“Bill, _what_ are you doing in my window?”

“Nothing, just hangin’ around, really! Ha, get it?”

Some time ago, you might’ve given a chuckle to the out-of-place, bronze man unceremoniously stuck halfway through your kitchen glass window, but his antics were getting quite old. Especially before your morning cup.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Just tell me you haven’t been there all night. In fact, tell me this is a dream and I’m still asleep.”

“Telling you that isn’t going to change anything, pal! So, can you help me out now?”

With an irritated sigh, you proceeded with your routine of pouring grounds and water in your coffee pot and started it up, taking your time to approach the window.

“Not quite able to fit anymore, eh, Billy-boy?” you scoffed, arms folded.

“That isn’t my fault!” he pouted, childishly kicking his legs outside, “You’re the one who’s been stuffing me up and ruining my getaways!”

True enough, he wasn’t exactly the lanky scamp he was the first time you found him in your kitchen months ago—and what a shock that was.

He claimed he was trying to hide from “those damn Pines,” whatever that meant, and you stupidly took pity on him and offered him some food.

Rinse and repeat, and now he was that pesky neighborhood duck you regret throwing crumbs to.

You laughed at his upset impatience, black pupils glittering under disheveled blonde hair.

“I think it might behoove you,” you grabbed his forearms, “to use the key under the front door next time—”

With a overpowered, forceful tug, you managed not only to get him inside, but crashing to the floor, trapping you under him.

“Oh, finally!” he stretched, springing to his feet. “Been waiting like that for hours!”

“Honestly, I’m amazed those Pines you’re always running from haven’t found you,” you sassed, climbing up and gravitating to your brewed coffee, “Especially if your ass was sticking out of the window for however long.”

Bill shrugged, taking a seat at the small table. “I have my ways. Plus, black pants,” he said, making a small gesture to his clothes.

That was another part of him that baffled you; at any given chance, he managed to show up in some different, too-snazzy (or stupid, both applied fairly well) outfit for running around like an outlaw; today’s with a yellow short-sleeve, pants, and black gloves you only recently realized he always seemed to wear.

“Are you ever going to tell me the whole story?” you badgered, taking a sip of your fixed cup. “I mean, the whole _‘oh-I’m-a-spooky-demon-and-I-would-be-getting-away-with-all-this-stuff-if-it-weren’t-for-those-dang-Pines-and-their-dumb-pig’_ thing has been entertaining for a while, but…gets old.”

“But I told you! That’s it! The boy studied some runes, the pig was a genius, and then they stole my essence, and I’ve been trying to get it back!”

You snorted into your coffee. His explanation got worse every time you asked, you reveled in it. It wasn’t as if you weren’t onto some of the weirder things going on, and he was no exception—but you didn’t let him know, it was too fun to mess with him.

He picked up on your derision and pouted. “Just make me food already, I’m hungry.”

As much as you should’ve kicked him out of your house ages ago, he was the most exciting thing going on in your life, so you smirked it off and went to making your usual breakfast for two.

  
“So, I was thinking,” Bill loudly chimed in, “Maybe I need to use a different method.”

“And what gave you that idea?” you cooed, plating the food, “Besides all the past failures?”

He leered at you and went to attack his eggs with a cheap fork, feeding himself, his goatee, and the table.

“Anyway,” he said between mouthfuls, “it’s obvious if I go in there because most I can do is transform clothes or turn water to wine, which is _baby stuff_ ,” he intoned the latter part as if to validify some secret grudge, “so how’s about you help me get back what’s mine?”

“You mean your ‘essence’?” you stifled a laugh, “No thanks. I’m fine just being your breakfast buddy, who, for your information, has a life to attend to.”

“Yeesh, I don’t know how you have the gall to say no to me,” he said haughtily, taking a swig of orange juice.

“And I don’t know how _you_ have the gall to come back to my kitchen every day.”

“Because I can and you let me,” he said smugly, finishing his plate like a dog, “So. Gonna do something interesting or go with another day of monotony?”

You mulled it over, reaching the bottom of your mug.

“Fine. But I’d better get something out of this.”

“Like a deal?!” Bill pitched, a newfound spark in his eyes.

“Er, yeah. I’ll go with you to confront a small child, and, oh, I don’t know, you can stop sneaking into my house unannounced.”

“Works for me,” he said with a sly grin, sticking out an eager hand.

The formality of a handshake was lost on you, but you returned the gesture, his gloved hand burning to the touch.

You quickly pulled your hand back, the sensation leaving as soon as it came, and gave him a skeptical glare.

He coyly shrugged it off and patted his stomach. “I mean, all you need to do is use the lock, so you blew that chance. Still, have fun.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, have fun,” he repeated. “I’m not gonna tag along, told you that much already.”

“It’s nine in the morning on a Saturday, I’m still in my pajamas, and you expect me to go on a mission by _myself_ for you and let you stick around my house knowing full well the kid has your… _powers_?”

“Yeah. Why, you don’t need directions, do ya? Everyone knows that tourist trap.”

“That’s not,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “That’s not what I—you know what? I’m still asleep.”

“What?”

“Goodnight, Bill, I’ll see you when it’s the morning and I have real coffee and real energy to put up with your bullshit. I’m tired, this is a dream, goodbye.”

He was making sounds of protest, but, hell, you really were tired.  
Confidentially, you spent more time up on the internet than was healthy, which was taking its toll on your morning capabilities.

You stomped into the next room and climbed onto the sofa, almost immediately shutting down as your cheek hit the armrest.

  
The loud sound of anime suddenly registered in your system and your eyes shot open to the bright, sparkly animation of a certain sailor scout.

You struggled to shout something, but whatever it was, it was unintelligible.

“Oh, hey,” Bill unabashedly greeted from his seat in front of you. “I found this video tape and decided to play it. Would you believe me if I told you I possessed the creator once? It was weird. That whole place, really.”

You scrambled off the sofa to shut off the tape. The fact that you still had a bunch of those was a dark secret you didn’t need the neighbors hearing.

All your other videos littered the front of the television, which explained how he found _it_ in the back.

“Can you _not_ touch those?” you barked, uneasiness in the back of your voice.

“Why? I already searched through your other stuff. So boring,” he feigned a yawn.

You angrily cursed yourself for falling to the sweet seductress of sleep and put the movies in a pile to be sorted later. _At least he didn’t…_

“The stuff on your computer, though, hoo boy. And I thought _I_ was the messed up one! Hahaha!”

 _Great_.

With silent frustration, you stormed into your room and came out less than a minute later in your day clothes.

Roughly grabbing him by the arm, you dragged him out the building with you.

“Since you’re not going to let me have a normal day, I’m getting this out of the way so I can get back to better things,” you growled, climbing into your car.

“But I _told_ you,” Bill whined, reluctantly following suit, “They’re gonna know it’s me.”

“You can stay in the car, I just don’t want you to make a mess. I doubt I’ll take a while.”

He sounded offended, but mostly muttered to himself, putting his feet up on the dashboard.

  
It was only a short drive to the Mystery Shack, where all this trouble was supposedly centered, so you were there in no time.

You took a quick glance to the clock—noonish, you’d knocked out longer than you thought—before stepping out, leaving in the keys for the sake of air conditioning and radio, God forbid you leave Bill in there without it for a few minutes.

Of course, as soon as you walked up to the door, you realized you had no plan.

Theoretically, you could ask about runes on sale, the boy would ramble on, show off his findings, and you could swipe it. That’d work, right?

Either way, it was all you had to work off of.

Your entrance to the gift shop was announced with a chime, though the employee at the register acted as if she couldn’t hear it, her head stuck in a magazine.

You somewhat awkwardly walked along the hokey merchandise wondering where the other workers were.

You knew the kid you were looking for was related to the owner, the town scheister, but otherwise, you tried to avoid anything related to the Mystery Shack, for good reasons.

The uncomfortable, music-filled silence in the shop was suddenly broken by a familiar voice walking through the employee door.

“Yeah, dudes, we definitely gotta do that one again!”

“…Soos?”

The man perked at your call and waved.

“Oh, hey! Haven’t seen you in forever, what’s up?”

“Not much,” you shrugged, a sense of relief running over. “You still work here after all these years?”

“Yeah, Mr. Pines is the best boss I could ask for! Plus, I get to work with some of my favorite peeps, like Wendy,” a voice behind the register gave a small “sup”, “and the twins!”

“Twins?”

He made a gesture, to the door he came through, but only a pig walked past.

“Huh. Pretty sure they were behind me.”

At that, a young girl came striding out, prancing around with a cap in her hand, a boy strikingly similar to her giving chase.

“Hey dudes, come say hi to an old classmate of mine!”

The girl sprang up to you and shook your hand ecstatically. “My name’s Mabel! And this dweeb is my brother, Dipper! Any friend of Soos’ is a friend of ours!”

The boy took that moment to retrieve his hat and fix it back on his head. “Yeah, hi,” he said with tired indifference. “C’mon Mabel, I have work to do.”

“Pfft, pardon Sir Poopypants, he’s been up all night doing this kind of wacky magic stuff with runes and whatever,” his sister offered as an apology.

“Mabel! Don’t tell the whole world what we’re up to!”

“Jeez, Dips, you need to be a little more trusting!”

“Trust is what leads to backstabbing!”

“It’s not, that’s just your paranoid—”

Not wanting to let the opportunity go to waste, you swiftly chimed, “Runes? I used to study those, actually. Minored in Cryptology and the like.”

“Wait—you did?” The boy found a new sense of respect and shook your hand. “Cool! It’s so hard to find out more about them, the information’s so scarce—the name’s Dipper, if you didn’t catch it.”

“Nice to meet’cha,” you grinned, entertained by the fact that this boy was apparently the source of Bill’s problems. “Well, if you need help with that kind of stuff, I’m sure I can help.”

He cautiously shifted his gaze, but meeting an informed follower of the supernatural was outbalancing his skepticism.

“Can I trust you?”

“Uh…I guess? I mean, Soos knows I’m cool, right?”

“Yeah, super cool! Helped me start my hobby of writing fanstories. Good stuff.”

“Right,” you nodded, remembering the plot of those stories was less than pleasing.

“Maybe. But Soos gets along with most people.”

“True, dude.”

The odd pig walked nearby again and Mabel picked it up and held it towards you.

“Here, Waddles can sniff out the good from the bad!”

The pig snorted its nose. It…didn’t seem as much as smart as Bill had earlier claimed.

In fact, now you were wondering if the self-touted demon would stand a chance against an inflatable tube-man.  
  


But apparently the swine made a satisfactory sound, because it was soon sent on its way, and you were being pulled past the employee door and up some stairs into an attic.

Mabel, happy to show off her bedspace to even a stranger, was already describing each of her decorations and the importance of every poster and doll.

Half of it didn’t quite make sense, but you weren’t paying too much attention to begin with.

Dipper pulled out a couple old, creased pieces of paper, marked stones, and crystals and laid them out on the floor.

“So, here’s what I have.”

You looked blankly at the spread and then at him.

“And…?”

“Oh, well,” he fumbled, clearly less knowledgeable with this part, “I wanted to see if I can get the energy in this crystal to convert into this other one for, er, use.” he quickly added, “Hypothetically speaking!”

While you blatantly lied about your studies, you knew a few bare bits about the subject from prior knowledge, so you had a small bit to work off of.

“Uh, well,” you hesitated, tracing the inscriptions over with your fingers in an attempt to absorb the meaning. “If the charged stone is for the sealing of whatever hypothetics, you’d want to lay it down and then have a transfer rune that connects it to an uncharged stone.”

Maybe it was the fluidity of your lying, or your age exuding authority, but the boy was buying it.  
Even Mabel seemed slightly invested, no longer bouncing on her bed.

“Is it really that simple?”

“Yeah! You just, ah, have basic future runes here. Totally different.”

He nodded and was writing on a notepad that appeared almost out of thin air.

You checked the clock and, if it was right, you’d wasted too much time already.

There was a new episode of a certain show airing in a few hours, and you weren’t sure you set it to record, like hell you were gonna beat around the bush some more.

“So what _should_ be written on them?”

“Er, here, I’ll show you,” you slowly dug around in your bag for a certain thing you picked up earlier.

Once you felt it, you threw the small ball to the ground and it exploded into a cloud of smoke.

The kids both shouted out a “ _hey!_ ” as you snagged the crystals and blasted out of there, too glad the bowl you stole the smoke bombs from was labeled right.

Luckily, your car was still there, and you quickly hopped inside and drove back to your lot.

It wasn’t until you were shutting off your engine that you realized Bill hadn’t said anything.

Then you realized it was because he wasn’t in the car.

“Goddammit!” you cursed to no one in particular, storming up to your door.

That man was enjoyable in moderation, but today, he was just a pure hassle.

Kicking your way inside, you found yourself faced with one of the least impressive things you’d ever see.  
  


Bill, sprawled out on your sofa, in a sailor scout uniform, surrounded by clusters of empty water bottles, parroting each line of dialogue from the blazing television.

It broke you.

You couldn’t help yourself and lurched in a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

“Ohh, _heyyy!_ ” he greeted, already exuding his obvious overuse of “baby” magic.

“God-fucking-dammit,” you struggled to say between laughs, continuing inside, “I left the car for barely an hour and _this_ is what you go off and do?”

He bore an offended look, “Well, goodness! I was just _verrry_ bored. Plus, I wanted to see the scene where Usagi and Mamo-chan kiss and it’s _ssso_ romantic,” he gushed, cupping his cheek like a girl.

Under your breath, you began questioning a lot of things about this weeaboo bastard.

“R-right, well,” you composed yourself, “I’m just going to take this from you,” you said, sliding the remote from his hand.

He looked at his empty palm dully and stared at you with the same glazed expression before his eyes widened and he quickly sat up; for a moment you almost thought he was going to hit you.

“I—”

Immediately, his stomach contents came spewing out of his mouth and onto the tile.

You were taken aback—honestly, who wouldn’t be?—and dropped everything, hauling him over to the kitchen.

“That tastes _ssso_ _bad_ ,” he shuddered, taking a seat in the chair you propped between the sink and fridge.

“Yeah, welcome to adulthood,” you said hastily, pulling out the ice tray and popping out some cubes into a glass. “Chew on some ice to cool down your throat, I gotta clean that shit up before it spreads to my videos.”

With pep in your step, you hurried to clean the mess in your living room.

It might’ve been mean to ditch Bill, but it wasn’t as if he could afford to replace anything.

At this point, you’d grown quite used to clearing these types of messes, so it took mere seconds.

By the time you scurried back into the kitchen, though, Bill already looked like he was going to ralph out whatever was left.

You tied off the sickly bag and tossed it to the trash, standing safely behind his back, giving assuring pats.

“Gotta let it happen, can’t hold it back,” you wisely informed him. “But really, how much did you have? There were almost ten water bottles out there!”

“Jeez, not _aaall_ of them were changed to wine, ya know,” he gurgled out, hands over his mouth.

“I’ll take that as ‘too much.’ Figures someone like you can’t grasp moderation,” you smugly chided.

Bill hitched his spine again and what you hoped was just wine began spilling out of his mouth and onto his outfit—and not into the sink conveniently next to him.

As if you should’ve expected better.

He tried to wipe his flushed, sweaty forehead, but only managed to spread regurgitated wine over his face.

“ _Ugh_ , this is so laaame!”

“It’s okay,” you reaffirmed, “Just don’t get overzealous next time… _Sailor Bill_.”

“Hey!” he twisted around in his chair and pointed an angry finger, “It is one of the best fuckin’ shows in the galaxy—check yourself, pleb!”

The shit-eating grin on your face wouldn’t budge.

“Alright. Sure. Just don’t attack me with a Venus Chain or anything, buddy.”

“It’s _Venus Love-Me Chain!_ And it’s some overpowered shit, screw you!”

You burst into laughs at the stupidity of it, and with a few seconds, he broke into giggles as well.

“C’mon, you bastard, let’s get you cleaned up so we can watch the rest of that show.”

Bill perked at the idea, but was resistant when you turned on the sink and tried to take his gloves off.

“No, these—these stay on.”

“You realize they’re filthy, right?”

“What’s it to ya?”

You rolled your eyes. “That means they go off and get cleaned, mon frere.”

“ _Nnno._ ”

God, he was such a disgrace to the title sometimes.

Hesitantly, you snapped your fingers and he was dressed down to boxers.

You proceeded to run his hands under the water, taking extra care around the eyes embedded in his palms.

“I mean, really, you’ve always been too sensitive about these things, anyway.”

He sat in vapid silence, which you almost mistook as a drunken stupor.

You looked at him plainly in the eyes. “We’ve been in this same galaxy for the same amount of time, give or take a few centuries, and yet you never remember me, do you?”

“It’s not—it’s not _my_ fault! You’re just forgettable!” he sputtered.

“And yet our paths are always crossing,” you said somewhat dismissively.

Frankly, you got used to it the sixth time around.

“I’ve just had…cool things to do, is all. _Big_ things!”

“Yes,” you took a wet napkin to his face, “Nothing as cool as prancing around like an idiot.”

Bill squirmed around as you scrubbed his cheeks and scruffy chin. “I can—I can do this myself, thank you!”

Having the upper hand at his frustration was always nice, but you tried not to let it show too much.

“Okay, well, once you’re done, I’ll restart the video and we can watch it together,” you said, tossing him the wetnap and strolling back into your cleaned living room.

  
In a few short minutes, Bill came stumbling into the room, throwing himself over the couch and onto the spot next to you.

“Do I really forget _that_ often?” He bashfully asked just before you pressed play, softly squeezing his uncovered palms together.

“Oh, yeah. Some of us use it as an in-joke because you’re so self-absorbed,” you replied without a beat, taking a sip from a still-full bottle you retrieved from the floor. “No big deal, really. I know a dude with a cousin who’s restricted to the mindscape. At least you’re not that him.”

“Right,” he laughed uneasily.

“No fun when you drink too much, I swear,” you teased, restarting the colorful program. “Just shut up and enjoy the show, weeb.”

He scoffed and flicked his wrist, suddenly adorning a newer, cleaner sailor scout outfit.

“At least I’m not afraid to admit I have _taste_.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” You snorted, reaching an arm over the geeky bastard.

He began to object, but once the theme song started up, he lost all interest in anything else.

It was nice, moments like these where you could momentarily forget the history and trouble that followed Bill Cipher’s name, almost like you were getting a soft spot for the guy.

Hell, maybe you’d even give him that crystal back and restore him to his former glory.

Maybe.

If he stopped being a dick more often.


	2. L IRUJRW WR WKLQN RI D WLWOH

A sharp kick to the chin sent you reeling awake.  
  
Growling something incoherent, you rubbed the sore spot and shot a sleepy glare to the offending foot.  
  
It belonged to Bill, the annoying, sad excuse for a demon that, like a dog, insisted on sticking around.  
  
Of course, you were about to punch him right back before you noticed he was asleep, squirming and squeezing a pillow, mouthing some words to himself.  
  
The two of you must've been out for a good while, according to the hissing static of a finished tape, number-whatever of your impromptu marathon.  
  
Admittedly, you had your bouts of narcolepsy, but Bill? When did he fall asleep? What time was it, anyway? You were also tempted to question when he had changed into a tank and boxers, but chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth compared to his earlier getup.  
  
Since your body now decided you weren't going to fall back asleep any time soon, you went and crawled off the sofa, trying your best not to disturb the sleeping bastard—you'd wake him up with a toss of cold water. Or hot; whichever works.  
  
Once you walked into your kitchen to rev up your trusty coffee maker, you briefly inspected the oven clock.  
  
 _6 AM? This is bullshit,_ you complained to yourself. It wasn't as if you were capable of bending time to a more pleasant hour anymore, either. Not since the Noodle Incident that resulted in your narcoleptic tendencies.  
  
But, hey, the past is in the past—metaphorically speaking, of course.  
  
With a freshly brewed mug, you reentered the living room to shut off the buzzing television that lit the room. You figured you could take this time to check on your blog in peace, at the least.  
  
Interestingly enough, though, once the tv was silenced, you could hear that the sleeping blonde's mouthings were actually sleeptalk.  
  
Too intrigued, you crept closer to the man sprawled out on your furniture to better listen.  
  
 _"And this town...in ruins...respect the...Cipher..."_  
  
Oh, how quaint. He still hadn't given up that "chaos and destruction" goal of his, even after his last great failure that made him the big joke amongst demons. Some might call it "perserverance," but you knew it better as "stubbornness."  
  
 _"But...kinda lonely...at the top..."_  
  
Jeez, how lame could this guy get?  
  
On impulse, you "accidentally" tilted your mug too far and spilled a small dose of payback of his head.  
  
 _"Shhhit—!"_  
  
He scrambled to sit upright, touching his burning face.  
  
"You..."  
  
"Me," you smugly replied, "It's what you get for kicking me in your sleep." You sharply added, "And for being here in general."  
  
Rather than snap a comeback, he clutched the throw pillow tightly against himself and let out an odd, somewhat frustrated sigh, holding a palm against his hot cheek.  
  
"What, too early in the morning for you to be a brat?"  
  
"No," he pouted, averting your questioning stare.  
  
"What—oh, don't tell me you _enjoyed_ that," you snorted.  
  
His eyes briskly shot to yours with a look of horror before angrily turning away.  
  
You burst out laughing, "That's right! You'e the one—pfft—-you have that extreme sado-masochism kink! Oh, man, how could I forget?"  
  
"Wuh— _nu-uh!_ "  
  
"Uh, yuh-huh, why else are you holding onto that pillow— _my_ pillow, mind you—so tightly?" you grinned, struggling to hold back a laugh.  
  
"B-because! It's cold in here!"  
  
"Not even, my friend," you rolled your eyes, "If you're so sure of yourself, why don't you just prove to me you don't have a hard-on right now?" Were this situation with anyone else...that bursting insistence would've been a lot more awkward. But, gods, he was such a child.  
  
"I don't have to prove anything to you, I'm Bill-goddamn-Cipher! Lay off!" He frustratedly barked.  
  
This was too good. Too eager for your own good to mess with him, you made a sweeping motion to beckon the pillow, which flung itself into your grasp, showcasing Bill's pitched tent.  
  
He let out a shocked and angered gasp and crossed his legs and sheltered his pelvis with his hands, glaring at you as you bit your fist to curb your chortling.  
  
Of course, you erupted into laughter. "Hahaha! Man, you're such a messed-up motherfucker—that was scalding coffee!"  
  
"So—so what?!" He snapped, folding his bronze arms, "I'm sure you're into your own weird stuff, jerk!"  
  
"Nothing as weird as your kinks, I promise you," you teasingly winked.  
  
He gave a "hmmph" in return and upturned his nose, face still tinted. You figured this was his way of ending a lost argument.  
  
"Fine, whatever," you shrugged, a smile still plastered, "Then I'm going to the bathroom, fuddy-duddy. And I'm bringing my laptop, so it'll be like an hour—only because I'm going on my blog, nothing else," you insisted, "So in the meantime you can get rid of _that_...without making a mess!" You laughed, shuffling away.  
  
"Wh—screw you!" he hissed.  
  
"Not now, buddy!"

After a long visit to the bathroom—okay, you were admittedly bringing a new meaning to " _shitposting_ "—you triumphantly returned to check on the Blonde Blunder.  
  
He had changed himself into a black tee and some odd plaid-yellow skirt (his affinity for cross-dressing was beyond you), with, of course, a pair of fingerless gloves and bowtie to bring it all together, like some twilight zone of fashion. He even looked noticeably calmer—probably thanks to whatever he had turned on the telly, something with an orange spoon and blue horse. What was with him and kids' things, anyway?  
  
Before you could make a snarky comment, he caught on to your presence and swiftly turned to you, asking, "So I just remembered, you never gave me that shard I so humbly asked you to retrieve."  
  
Right, that thing stuck between the cushions, just under him.  
  
"About that...I was thinking I'd hold on to it for a while." You hadn't thought about it before, but it was the perfect way to mess with him.  
  
" _What?!_ You can't do that! It's mine— _mine_!"  
  
"Too bad, you brat. You're not exactly in a position to argue right now, you know. Plus, this way I can get some use out of you."  
  
"But that's most of my energy! You can't hold it as ransom!"  
  
"I can and I will! I'm meeting someone today and they're, well, they're that kind of person you can only handle one-on-one for so long, if you get my drift."  
  
"Only if you give me the crystal in exchange!"  
  
"We'll see," you non-answered, treading to your room, "Maybe if you're on your best behavior. Just let me change and we'll go."  
  
"Can't you just snap your fingers and be done?" he skeptically asked.  
  
"Because, Einstein, I like to make sure I look good, so in my room I use my new, magical contraption called a mirror."  
  
"Don't get me started on mirrors," Bill rolled his eyes. "And what about breakfast? You're not going to make me starve, are you?"  
  
You snorted but refused to grace the dumb question with a response, getting ready instead.  
  
"I'm serious! Could your conscience sincerely allow this majestic form to wither?"  
  
Stepping out in a new shirt and pants, you jeered, "Skipping breakfast won't kill you. Especially with the pounds you've been piling on lately. 'Sides, we're meeting 'em at a diner, you'll eat there."  
  
"Oh, well then, okay! I've been starting to get sick of your bland cooking, anyway."  
  
You shot him a dirty look. "I'd throw something at you, but I don't want to put up with the consequences of it, you creep."  
  
He crossed his arms in offense, but avoided saying anything to ruin his chances for a meal, instead going to the door and impatiently tapping his foot.  
  
"Alright, alright, we're going," you waved a hand dismissively, grabbing your bag, wallet, and keys, leading outside and to your car.  
  
"What's with the bag if we're just getting food?" Bill badgered, buckling himself in.  
  
"Well, bags are commonly used for holding and carrying things. It's not like I'd willingly meet this person for only friendly banter, mind you. Why do you ask so many questions?"  
  
"Because."  
  
"Because...why?"  
  
"Just because."  
  
" _Beca_ —agh! Don't toy with me, bucko!"  
  
"Fine," he sighed. "You need to be more fun...like me!"  
  
"If I were you...actually, no. I don't even want to imagine that. I'd rather fuck a dog with rabies."  
  
"Hey! I know you're jealous, but you don't have to be so crude," he huffed.  
  
You rolled your eyes and decided to let the conversation die. If only for a few seconds.  
  
"Who's this friend of yours we're meeting, anyway? Are they also...?"  
  
"A demon? Not really. More like a god. And a shitty one at that—hey, sounds like you two already have a bit in common!"  
  
"A god? ...you think I should be wearing pants? Y'know, to show how suave, professional, and generally better I am than some god?"  
  
"Considering it's windy out, yes. Please. But if you really want to make an impression on him, just take those gloves off. That'd probably do it."  
  
Bill leered, ignoring the jab. "It's a 'him'?"  
  
"Well, to the extent that gods and demons have no true binary... Yeah, he identifies as a guy. For now, at least. That a problem, pal?"  
  
"I...guess not. Just don't think I'll like him. Of all people in these past few decades, men have brought me the most trouble, to say the least," he firmly declared.  
  
You shot him a dull glare. "Really? _That's_ your reason?"  
  
"Okay, well, I just want to be able to justify hating someone before meeting them. Sue me."  
  
"Knowing you, you'll find plenty of reasons soon enough," you said flatly, parking the car. "Look, we're here already. C'mon Polly, let's get your crackers. Or, y'know, whatever the equivalent would be for a loony."  
  
While he was feeling a little defiantly hesitant, Bill's rumbling stomach led him to folowing you into the greasy, aptly-named diner—but not before switching into nice, black slacks. You'd make a jab at him wearing all-black in the scorching summer, but it wasn't all that bad of an outfit.  
  
Of course, you couldn't make more than a few steps inside before a familiar, friendly voice shouted for you.  
  
"Hey! Over here!" A portly, tattooed blonde frantically waved.  
  
Giving a small courtesy wave back, you joined him in the booth. "Hey, Cupid."  
  
An unpleasant growl drew your attention to Bill, whose face was plastered with a mix of surprise, anger, and horror.  
  
 _"Him?!"_  
  
"Oh, hey, Ci-guy! Long time no see! You're not as small or angular as I remember. How's it been? Have a cassette of my rock music," he ritualistically added as he did to most people, tossing a tape that bounced off of Bill's stiff, haunched shoulder.  
  
"Wait, you two...know each other?" Somehow, you knew this was bad news.  
  
"Yes," they said in unison, though Bill much more spitefully.  
  
"Uh...well then. Okay." Whatever bad blood was between them, you weren't sure you wanted to know. "Gonna sit down, Bill?"  
  
He shifted his gaze between you and Cupid before reluctantly sliding in next to you, leaving almost no elbow room between the two of you.  
  
You shrugged it off as Bill being hungry, angry, and hangry. "So, D-Piddy, whatcha been up to?"  
  
"Nothing much, just the usual biz—"  
  
" _'D-Piddy'?_ "  
  
You skeptically looked at Bill. "It's called a nickname. People do that between friends."  
  
"Yeah, long story short, I go whole hog at parties. It was weird at first, but totally grew on me. ' _The Love God_ ' was apparently too arrogant, even if it _is_ my job title."  
  
"But...you don't call _me_ by a nickname!" the demon whined.  
  
"Sure I do! Let's see, I've called you...' _bastard,' 'brat,' 'idiot,' 'child_ ,' and so on!"  
  
"Buh! It's not the same!"  
  
"Hey, bro, don't get jealous or anything, haha!"  
  
" _Jealous?!_ Who said I was jealous of some _stupid, cheap, bas—_ "  
  
"We don't serve bass, but I can getcha some salmon if ya want!"  
  
Thank goodness for waitresses.  
  
"Uh, no, I..."  
  
"I dunno about him, but I could go for a hero and a cola," Cupid interjected, with a scoff coming from Bill.  
  
"I'll just have a shortstack with your freshest, strongest joe, as usual. Thanks, Susan."  
  
"No problemo! And you? Salmon?"  
  
"Just...double the last one."  
  
"Alrighty then," the lazy-eyed waitress nodded in confirmation, "I'll put those orders in. And if it ain't too much to ask, try to sort out your problems a little more quietly! We got kids here, ya know," she winked before skirting off, leaving you the tiniest bit embarrassed.  
  
"Anyway," you said, taking the chance to divert the subject, "D—Cupid, you got the stuff you owe me?"  
  
"Totally, got it all right here," he grinned, patting his belt that hung several different bottles. "Just gimme a sec to make sure it's the right one," he added, shifting his attention to the numerous containers.  
  
You turned to Bill, who was practically seething. "What's the big deal, jackass?" You harshly whispered, "Why so hostile?"  
  
"Out of all the things that I've forgotten, everything that's happened...it all circulates back to this guy. And no matter what, I'll never forget how he—"  
  
"Alright, got it!" Cupid announced, tossing you a bottle filled with some orange fluid. "That should do it for ya, but if not, you can always cough up some cash for the newer, better, maroon one."  
  
"Uh, no, this _will_ work or we're going to have some problems, buddy," you said sternly, "You know I don't like getting screwed over."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Just saying it for business purposes. I don't have human clientele, so I gotta get the most of what I can. No beef, dude."  
  
" _'No beef'_ my ass," Bill hissed under his breath.  
  
"Okay, man. Is this about Greece? Are you still on that? 'S like three millenia ago; let it go! I said I was sorry—and you're at least back to normal now, right?"  
  
"Sorry is a four-letter word with a 'y' on the end, doesn't do shit. I had to go and do this all _myself_ ," the demon barked, his voice getting a little too loud.  
  
"Bill, calm down. What's this all about?" You rang in. Anything much earlier than the common era was before your time; you'd only been on the planet after a while with some weird shit with frankencense and a virgin. Which was ironic, considering you were the most mature out of the three. Then again, age and maturity don't always correlate.  
  
"Right," said Cupid, "You wouldn't know about this. Well, uh..."  
  
He warily looked over at Bill, who was glaring daggers. "If anyone's going to tell the story, it's going to be me," the darker of the two snapped, shifting a softer look to you. "Y'see, once upon a time—"  
  
"Food!" The boisterous waitress announced, dropping down platters for the each of you, including cream and sugar for the coffee, slipping the check between the plates. Like the kid he was, Bill preferred cream with coffee rather than coffee with cream.  
  
And, as good as it was for the two of them to shut their annoying voices and wolf their food, you were so eager to hear the story that you barely touched your own plate.  
  
You could only get halfway done with your drink before you grew too impatient.  
  
"Ahem. Story time."  
  
"Fine," Bill muttered with his mouth half-full, "This isn't exactly a time I like to recall, you know," he said sharply with a quick glare to Cupid, who was suddenly more interested in gnawing on his sandwich.  
  
"Back in the day when Greece was the place to be, we were all putzing around, when along came that Helen broad. You've probably heard about her, right? So breath-taking that any and every creature, regardless of their gender or preconceived preferences, pined over her. Magic, I tell you. Which, guess it shouldn't have been much of a surprise when we found out it was just Zeus incarnating that gnostic Ennoia to fuck with everyone as usual," Bill mused, twirling his small goatee. "Anyway, even I was admittedly smitten. So was Lardass there, back when he had a figure and was going around as Aphrodite. Inevitably, we got into a huge brawl, just like everyone else—damn, the wars that puppet started. Dream goals right there!"  
  
"Pfft, honestly, I'd love to see you start a world war in drag," you chuckled, knowing it wasn't out of the question with him.  
  
"Maybe some other century, I'm sticking this form for a while. And we all know it's near impossible to work your way on a global scale with those human things without being porcelain. But anyway, he and I, she and I, _whatever_ , we forged a truce in the terms of "let the better suitor win," which wasn't too hard, considering the rest of the competition. 'Course, we both ended up trying to sabotage one another regardless. I went the practical route and broke the Titans out of Tartarus to buy me time while everyone'd be too busy duking it out again. However, _he_ cheaply sent tainted wines along my backstabbing ex-drinking buddy Dionysus. I swear, it was only because he knew that drunkard would be convinced by an easy lay—"  
  
Cupid choked on his sandwich.  
  
"Anyway, poisoned stuff, started to make my structural coding deteriorate, and on top of that, he tipped off that hot-headed, hypocritical Zeus who was pissed off that I sent the Titans lose and send down some overpowered lightning bolt, I got blasted to Egypt, yadda yadda, next thing I knew I was an Eye of Providence knockoff with severe damage to the mind. I mean, it's way better than what it used to be, and I made geometry hot, but...it's been hard to overcompensate for people not able to take my domination attempts seriously from being confined to the dreamscape in the form of a dapper polygon all these years later. No thanks to this jackass, who I have more than enough reasons to hate."  
  
"Uh..." You weren't sure how to respond. It wasn't as if you even knew what you were expecting but... _wow_.  
  
"Can't you just let it go, man?" Cupid complained. "It was a different era, and I was just really hormonal around that time—I've even sworn off female forms because of it. I said I was sorry, just...c'mon, live and let die."  
  
"Feh, says the person who didn't have to go through what _I_ suffered through," Bill sourly rolled his eyes, arms crossed.  
  
Cupid slammed his sauce-covered hands on the table. "If you're gonna be so sore about it, why don't you just take—"  
  
"Ladies, please!" You interjected, well aware their kerfuffle was drawing plenty of unwanted attention, "You're both idiots and you're both in the wrong. Get over it, the two of you."  
  
"But I wasn't even—"  
  
"Cupid, I said the two of you, and I mean it, regardless of your position in it. Besides," you turned to the somewhat smug demon, "My dear Billy-boy, you're forgetting that one time karma bit our friend here in the ass and he had to serve out all that time working as a baby angel. If he can live past that, so can you."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, dude...low blow..."  
  
"Hahaha! That's right! At least my form was badass, not some diaper baby!"  
  
"Man, why did you have to remind him? Just when I thought I'd be done with that."  
  
"Hey, eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Plus, he'd whine to me all day if I didn't."  
  
"Does it hurt poor baby's feelings? Hah!"  
  
"Screw you, man, I'm an established rockstar! I have mixtapes! What—what are _you_ doing with _your_ life?!"  
  
"I...I'll tell you what I'm doing! Going to the bathroom!" Bill firmly declared, his feet stomping away.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Pids, now I'm _never_ going to hear the end of this."  
  
"Why? You two aren't really _friends_ , are you? After all that jazz in the past?"  
  
"Call me stupid, but yes. I think he's technically my roommate now, considering the only other place I've seen him sleep was in the junkyard before the local kook chased him out. I mean, he's...he could be worse. Why do you think I brought him in with me?"  
  
"Honestly, I wasn't sure if he was stalking you or if you'd done some kind of hypnosis and made him your slave. Wouldn't put it past you."  
  
"Psh, shut up. That wasn't even my doing. I was just joking around until people took it too seriously. And anyway, you know I'm just trying to stay on the down-low like everyone else. If we get too obvious with what we're doing, they send out the big guys. Even good guys! Remember when Abe was fed up and ended slavery? Or Johnny! I mean, you know funny that moon landing prank was!"  
  
"But what about that Raz? He was nuts, and out of all those asassination attempts, didn't he die on his own when he got really drunk and drowned in a river?"  
"He was a god, first off. Secondly, I'm pretty sure that's what they want you to think."  
  
"True...man, you guys got it rough. I keep telling you, ya gotta go petition for better treatment or something! If enough of you sign, I'm sure the big guy will listen! That's what the angels did!"  
  
You gave him a dead stare that spoke for you.  
  
"Right, I guess maybe not _you_..."  
  
"Yeah. Definitely not me. It's fine, anyway. As long as you fuckers don't go changing the rules again, I'm fine being stuck in this town to keep an eye on _him_."  
  
"Eye on who?"  
  
You jolted a bit at Bill's sudden return to the booth. One look at his napkin-wrapped hands showed he must've accidentally burnt off his gloves in anger.  
  
"Uh...that strange Toby guy. Don't you feel like he's up to something? No one can be that pathetic. Right, Cupid?"  
  
"Oh, totally! When I was getting interviewed for a gig...let me just say I almost did the disgusting deed of using a love potion on that woman reporter just so things wouldn't be so awkward. The way he looks at her... _eugh_ ," the god shuddered, playing along.  
  
"Hm, yeah. And something about his name is just off. There's no way having a pun for a name is a normal thing for humans," Bill agreed.  
  
"Yeah! So, uh..." Cupid looked at you and nodded towards Bill in a way that meant he had some news just for you.  
  
You tapped your fingers in thought before silently pointing to the stained check on the table. The god nodded.  
  
"Hey, Ci-guy, how's about I try to start mending things by paying for this? Just, uh," he fiddled in the pockets of his cutoffs, pulling out a fifty, "They don't take things over twenty, so try asking someone if they have change."  
  
"Why me?" The demon said defiantly, clutching the bill.  
  
"It's the least you could do since he's paying for both of us," you insisted, giving him a nudge.  
  
Bill reluctantly stood and crept away, but not without giving the two of you a suspicious leer.  
  
"Okay, so," Cupid began, leaning in, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I overheard something at a council meeting and... let's just say rules _are_ changing. No more easy living."  
  
" _What?!_ " You gasped too loudly, quickly shifting close and matching his low tone, "Seriously? First they stopped us from apparating whatever we wanted, so we all had to get pensions and go out to buy things ourselves. Now what?"  
  
"Well, it's kinda the same thing with the objects. You know the deal, energy can't be destroyed or created, so it's taken from something else?"  
  
"Yeah, ever since that incident where someone accidentally changed their mind and ended up with the tower of Pisa in their house instead of a tower of pizza, right?"  
  
"Mhm, I hear that was hell to cover up. Somehow, it wouldn't fit in right, so it's stuck with that lean. Anyway, the same thing's happening with the cash. The heads pool up the money and have the minters legally create more, but all that's done is led to deflation all over. Surprised it worked as long as it did, to be honest."  
  
"So what does that mean for me?"  
  
"Not just you guys, angels and lower gods have to go through this, too. I didn't hear everything because I was actually there for some, y'know, mix-up..."  
  
"You were busted again, weren't you? That'd be the fourth time this decade. You have a problem."  
  
"I'll quit when it becomes a problem!" He snapped, "Anyway! All I know is that we're all going to have to stoop down even lower and get jobs."  
  
"You're shitting me. _Jobs?_ Fuck, at this point we might as well just turn in our powers altogether!"  
  
"Hey, I'm on your side, man! At least I have my music gig to work off of, but I'm worried about you. It's going to be a mad rush all around the globe to get employed, so you need to do it before it's officially announced the day after tomorrow."  
  
"This is a small town, where am I going to find a place that pays enough for me and my pet bastard?"  
  
"Heh, I dunno, but if you ever need some help or anything, I'm here for you! All you have to do is ask!"  
  
"Thanks, Pids, that's really kind of you, but...I can't just take charity like that."  
  
"Trust me, for you, I'm glad to help," he smiled, putting a hand on yours.  
  
"Ah, no, really, I'm good, buddy," you said, awkwardly pulling your hand away, only for it to be grabbed by both of his.  
  
"C'mon, you never let me get close to you! I always thought we got along so well, when are you going to give in?"  
  
"Because," you dryly replied, "I've told you countless times, I like you as a friend, nothing more. You need to stop viewing love so liberally—some people view it as personal and intimate, not like you treating fucking as casually as breakfast! But you and me—not going to happen!"  
  
"But...what about that one time you—?"  
  
"That was the seventies. We do _not_ talk about the seventies."  
  
"C'mon, I distinctly remember you and I were getting real close," he grinned, climbing far too close into your personal bubble, "and there was the distinct smell of booze and pot in the tent," he continued to climb closer, onto the table, as you leaned back into your seat, his arms blocking either side of you, "and we were tripping on some cheap acid when suddenly—"  
  
Cupid held your face and pressed his lips against yours as you struggled against it. If humans weren't around, you'd set his skull on fire! And his arms were surprisingly strong versus yours, you couldn't force him off, he was such a fucking—  
  
"Hey, I asked that lumberjack if he could break a fifty and he ripped it in half, so— _WHAT?!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I've made it clear yet that I don't take writing all that seriously.  
> This is all a bad joke.  
> I'll never fulfill my dream of being a clown, so this is the next best thing.  
>  ~~also I actually wrote most of this before watching the love god episode so he's probably mostly ooc whoops lol~~


	3. honestly if you're looking for a good chapter title you're in the wrong place

" _EXCUSE_ ME?!"

Bill's booming voice was all it took for Cupid to jolt off and away from you. And for good reason. As much of a joke as he usually was, the demon and his temper were extremely perilous under certain circumstances, everyone knew it—which was mainly why you were sentenced to watch him in the first place. And if Bill wasn't already moments from tearing the god a new one, this was definitely going to set him off.

"Hah, we were just, uh," Cupid scrambled to compose himself, "reenacting this really funny story, isn't that right?"

The look he gave you was one of pathetic, utter desperation. Part of you wanted the lecher grilled then and there, but some other part knew to hold onto his usefulness as an informant and supplier. All you could answer was a low, gutteral " _uhhhh._ "

But it wasn't as if you needed to answer, because from looks of the intense, piercing slits that were Bill's eyes, it was clear that he was firm with his own conclusion, whatever exactly it was.

Strangely enough, though, Bill didn't set anything ablaze or start a verbal tirade or any sort of overreaction you had expected.

Instead, he stood with uncomfortably silent stoicism, staring down the god before abruptly grabbing your arm with unprecedented force, physically dragging you out of the diner, much to your protests and the gawkings of bewildered onlookers, and somehow managing to keep his laser focus on Cupid and getting through the door without a hitch.

Once he approached your car, Bill released his grip on your definitely-bruised skin and slid into his already-unlocked seat, slamming the door with unnecessary strength. Slightly pained and confused, you dawdled over to your own side and climbed in.

You stared blankly at the steering wheel, giving your brain a few seconds to compute whatever that was, and shifted your attention to Bill, whose own gaze was out the window, his arms folded and his posture stiff.

"Uh," you started. Or, tried to. Where to start? Try to explain that you'd grown used to Cupid's unwanted advances and it was okay? Ask Bill why he was so out of character and if _he_ was okay?

"Why would you let him do that?"

Well, at least he was talking.

"Look, Bill, it's alright. He just...does that stuff all the time. I've always turned him down, but you know how gods are! You don't have to worry about me."

"So...you didn't want it, right?"

"Hopefully that was obvious enough, yes."

"And you...don't like him, correct?" He finally faced you, his face filled some kind of anxious anticipation.

"Bill..." You could read this motherfucker like a book. "I...only put up with him as an _associate_. Could care less for him as a friend, let alone anything else."

Bill returned to staring out the window, but you could practically feel his face light up. Christ, this guy. "Good. That's--that's good."

You shook your head in amusement and started up the car to head back to your place, guiltlessly leaving Cupid without a goodbye.

Passing a shabby storefront with a "help wanted" sign, you suddenly shouted, "Oh, that's right!" that startled your demonic passenger, who stared at you like you were announcing a fire.

"What? What's right?"

"No, no, it was something Cupid was telling me--" Bill's eyes suddenly narrowed, but you waved it off, "It's important. I don't know how much I need to fill you in on, but, basically, there was this council decision and because they lie and say they have our best interests at heart while they're really focused on covering their own asses--those _fuckers_ \--" You paused to take a breath and get back on track. "We need jobs. And I say 'we' because even though you're too incompetent for a job, I can't keep covering for you and leave you on your own."

By the incredulous look on his face, you might as well have been telling a caveman about taxes.

"Okay, firstly, screw you. Next, explain that council stuff. And "they". And how you're 'covering for me,' because, frankly, you don't do all that much."

All these years and you were still able to keep some semblance of patience, thank everything.

"Please, work on me with this. You get that there are other demons around, you know there are gods around, so wouldn't you expect the hierarchy to continue? Y'know, higher-ups?"

"I guess. But then who's the one at the top?"

"God," you gave a ragged sigh. "Er, I mean, not _God_ , per se, but more like _God, you're an idiot_. There is no top. How could one entity be in charge of all _this?_ That's like thinking the Queen of England is anything more than titular. It's like a business. Yeah, there's a CEO-type person, but they aren't necessarily the Founder. Get it?"

"But then who's the Founder? And how did the 'CEO'-type person get their position?"

" _JOBS_ ," you shouted in exasperation, pinching the bridge of your nose. "We are talking about _jobs_ now. Quit asking so many questions."

The look on his face was one of unimaginable confusion. Technically speaking, you weren't sure anyone knew the full story; it was something that'd been banned from discussion for eons. Still, it wasn't that complicated. At least...you'd never admit it if it was.

Bill continued to process some deep theorizing in focused silence (or, as much as his little mind could handle), which allowed you to drift off course to scope out prospective jobs. You briefly considered going back to the first sign you saw, but like hell you'd work for the _Gossiper_.  
Another was outside _Skull Fracture_. Bartending would be fun, sure, but it begs the question of what happened to their last barkeep.  
Hell, maybe you'd get a nice part-time at the mall. (Okay, who were you kidding? Working in a cesspool of teenagers? Yeah, right.)  
It wasn't as if you had any formal education, being that you hadn't ever needed any, so your options were thin. Especially if you had to include Bill in this situation.

What place would be remotely safe enough for you to let that manchild dick around without blowing any covers?  
The _Tent of Telepathy_ might've worked if the frontrunner of the show hadn't been tossed in the slammer. (Pity, he had such stage presence, too.)  
The only decent options left would be to say fuck it, defy the rules, and rely on your powers (Ha.) or get a job at that _Mystery Shack_. If something happened there, it could be passed off as part of the attractions, no sweat.

But... _there?_ Somehow, it felt passe.

However, you already considered yourself a cliche character, so ignoring the opportunity would be severely hypocritical.  
Plus, you knew enough under-the-radar tricks that could render the two of you perfect nobodies to the Pines family that ran the shindig. That'd open endless opportunities for shenanigans galore, and what kind of self-respecting demon would say no to that?

Without warning, you swerved the car, almost sending Bill flying out the window if it weren't for his oddly meticulous vehicular safety.

"Jesus Christ, _what was that for?!_ "

You let out an unapologetic laugh. "Sorry, Billy-boy. Had one of those genius, _a-ha_ moments. Dunno if you've ever had one."

He scoffed, "You're not the one here who shares a first name with a scientist. But go on."

"Yeah. Whatever. All I'm telling you is I know of a perfect place to find us some jobs," you added under your breath, " _no thanks to those elitists_."

"Ooh, which is? Butcher shop? Surgeon's office? Candy store?"

You quirked your brows at the last suggestion, but didn't put it past him. "It's a surprise. So..." you pointed a finger to his face, on which a blindfold appeared. "Keep that on."

Bill pouted, "Really? This is no fun."

"Maybe, but fucking with you is," you smugly replied.

He made some sort of grunt in response but didn't fiddle with the blindfold. His obedience both impressed and confused you.  
That is, until you realized he was using his weird hands to see.

"Yeesh, you tell me to be more fun and you don't even play along," you complained, resigned, "Fine, you can look, I don't care. We're almost there anyway."

Smugly, he ripped off the material and shifted it into a pair of fingerless gloves (sigh) before slipping them on as if they made him look cool. "Oh, I was playing along, all right," he chimed, "And I won this game."

You rolled your eyes at his delusion. "Keep telling yourself that. And then remind yourself whose house you're bumming in."

Bill scoffed and turned his attention to the road. "Feh! I don't see what that has to do with anything... Hey, why are you turning this--wait--" He seemed to turn a whole other shade in disbelief. "Is this your idea of a joke? 'Cause it ain't all that funny!"

Seems he knew the area well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I know this has been taking forever to get posted but _OOPS_ life happens.  
>  this chapter's super short because this was going to be longer but I decided to split it in half for...reasons.  
> I know it's super shitty and I have no idea how to write at all, etc, etc, but...ey, I'm tryin'! so shoot me.  
>  ~~okay but really I'm sorry for this shit I'm not even good why are you still here I'm going back into my box goodbye~~


End file.
